


An Innocent Wager

by PiscesDragon



Series: A Series Of Shorts [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Friendship, Getting Together, Gym time, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Not Beta Read, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesDragon/pseuds/PiscesDragon
Summary: When Matt decides to start working with a professional to “get swole”, his roommate can’t help but tag along to laugh at his pain. In no time, Keith is a regular during Matt’s gym sessions, mainly to thirst after the incredibly buff, amazingly hot personal trainer.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt & Keith, Matt Holt & Keith & Shiro, Matt Holt & Shiro
Series: A Series Of Shorts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1395886
Comments: 26
Kudos: 133





	An Innocent Wager

**Author's Note:**

> Holy smokes! Two fic posts in two days! I know -- It's a miracle!
> 
> This is just a fun little piece I decided to finish and get out of my working file. It's partially inspired by my husband's discussion of the conversations he has with his gym trainer. 
> 
> The visuals I pictured in my head while writing this were from [DamareDraws](https://twitter.com/damaredraws/status/1206597274844966912) on Twitter. *This fic does NOT go along with their story at all, but I love their work and you should definitely check out their comic if you haven't already!

“You’re a dick,” Matt says as Shiro moves him over to a new machine and increases the weight settings.

Shiro smiles with a hint of an evil shine to his eyes. “Let’s do five sets instead of three.”

Matt mutters as he begins his reps. “Big dick.”

“I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Shiro laughs. “But let’s just make it an even six, anyway.”

“Fucking asshole,” Matt grumbles, but continues to push the bar away from him, working his traps, biceps, and whatever other muscles Shiro has chosen to torture today.

Keith, standing off to the side, lets out a bark of a laugh at his friend’s sour mood. He really can’t help it — Matt’s arms and legs are so scrawny, it looks like sticks are pushing the bars.

“You come laugh at your buddy, but I doubt you can do much better,” Shiro taunts cockily over his shoulder at his client’s attractive friend.

Keith had been tagging along to the gym with Matt for the last few weeks, allegedly to give the gym a trial run in case he decides to join. Shiro can’t help but notice that other than spending a little time on the treadmill, Keith seems to focus most of his attention on watching Matt suffer through his session.

Not that Shiro is complaining. At least he has something nice to look at while being harrassed by Matt’s endless sarcasm.

“What - you’re insulting me now?” Keith retorts sharply, but the words lack any heat. If anything, Shiro wonders if maybe Keith is flirting with him, but he quickly tells himself that’s just wishful thinking.

“No! No! You look great!” Shiro quickly argues, the words flying out of his mouth while his filter is stuck in standby. “I mean...”

“I bet I could out-bench you.”

“You... what?” Shiro looks up from where he’s been watching Matt and counting his sets — to make sure he doesn’t cheat and short them — to stare at Keith where he’s standing off to the side. The shorter man’s eyebrows raise in challenge, his expression comfortable and self-assured.

“I bet I can bench press more than you can,” Keith says slowly, arms crossed and a sly confident smirk on his face.

Shiro can’t tell if he’s bluffing or really that cocky, but either way he can’t let Keith do something dangerous. “No way. Look, I’m really not talking shit. You’d hurt yourself.”

“Coward.” Keith scoffs and walks over to the weight bench. “How much can you do?”

“Keith...” It’s obvious the guy works out, but Shiro’s got at least fifty pounds on him, and that’s being generous, the majority of which is muscle. Shiro shoots a helpless look at Matt, begging for assistance.

However, Matt is watching both of them as if the only thing he’s missing is a box of popcorn.

“How much? What’s the most you can press?” Keith asks, still pressing the issue.

“You might as well tell him,” Matt says. “He’s stubborn as hell, I’m sure somebody around here has spotted for you before. He’ll find out.”

Shiro sighs. “290.”

It’s not entirely true. He can actually handle 300 pounds on a good day, but he’s fibbing as much as he thinks he’ll get away with. Unfortunately, Keith’s spotted for him a time or two, so he knows Shiro regularly lifts at least 275.

Keith proceeds to add weights to the bar, prepping Shiro’s equivalent and then adding another 20 pounds for good measure.

“Keith! No, no — This is... this is a horrible idea.” Shiro’s voice goes squeaky as he freaks out.

It does nothing to deter Keith, who calmly lies on the bench, positioning himself under the bar. 

Shiro’s gone pale, wringing his hands and trying to figure out a way to put a stop to this. The combined thought of losing his job AND watching this beautiful man break himself is much more than he was prepared to deal with today.

Matt chimes in, “I bet you a hundred bucks he can do it.”

“What? Are you crazy?” says Shiro, looking at him as if he’s lost his mind. “I’m not taking your money, Matt.”

“Humor me.”

“God, fine,” Shiro huffs. These two are going to be the death of him. “This is ridiculous!”

Keith gives Matt a meaningful look, then reaches up to grip at the bar.

“Hey, Mouthy, you gonna spot me or what?” he says to Shiro, and damn if that lightning strike grin and smart mouth doesn’t create a swirl of heat in Shiro’s gut.

He moves around behind the bench, still determined to keep Keith from doing something stupid. “You don’t have to do this. Really. I believe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Keith chuckles. The minute Shiro gets into place behind the bench, Keith lifts the bar above his head LIKE IT’S NOTHING. He then proceeds to do five reps, only huffing and a little red-faced on the last one. 

As Keith racks the bar, Matt has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the state of Shiro.

The poor man looks like his soul has ascended his body and he’s seen the face of God — and that god has messy black hair, dark blue eyes and an oddly angular face. If Matt’s not mistaken, Shiro also seems to be sporting a half-chub that wasn’t there before, if his traitorous gym shorts are any indication.

Keith sits up and smiles at Shiro.

“Not a great idea to judge someone based on how they look, huh?” He says, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his forehead and simultaneously showcasing a very defined set of abs in the process. Shiro can do nothing but stare at him, wide-eyed and flushed. “Bet you hate it when people assume you’re a dumb meathead.”

Shiro blinks, taking a lot longer to process the information than should be required for anyone who’s NOT a dumb jock. He finally turns his head to glance at Matt. “Did you know he could do that?”

“I wasn’t positive,” Matt admits with a shrug. “But he once picked up our couch with me on it and lifted it over his head, so I figured there was a good chance. He’s some kind of freak of nature.”

Shiro’s mouth drops open again, and his gaze darts back to Keith. The man in question stands, lifting his index finger to Shiro’s chin and pushing the taller man’s mouth closed. “Needless to say, lifting _you_ would be no problem.”

Keith gives Shiro a heated look, then steps away, headed toward the locker rooms. Shiro watches him walk away, like he has no control over his actions whatsoever and his eyes are magnetized to Keith’s body.

If computers were human, Matt thinks, this is definitely the visual for when the hard drive crashes.

Matt moves closer, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you keep that money you owe me. Just take him somewhere nice.”

Shiro’s gaze finally dislodges as Keith disappears from view, and his eyes meet Matt’s knowing smirk. “What?”

“And for the love of God, try to keep it down. My headphones only go so loud.” At Shiro’s puzzled expression, Matt clarifies, “I’ve been his roommate long enough, I know he’s a screamer.”

Shiro’s legs give out and his ass hits the bench, a solid thud echoing through the weight room, followed closely by Matt’s ringing laughter as he leaves through the large doorway toward the treadmills.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated!
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/geek_life13) for lots of Sheith, MDZS and other fandom randomness :)


End file.
